Curious Lists

Another fun one:

Justifications for Walking Backwards
(listed in order of least-to-most embarrassing)

• You're encouraging a small child/dog to follow
  
• You're dragging a heavy suitcase
  
• You're walking in front of Jack, who has a penchant for "small hiney pinches" (small qualifying the size of the pinch, not the hiney--he's an equal opportunity pincher)
  
• For a glute workout
  
• You split your pants
  
• You split your pants while wearing cutesy, ice-cream scoop underwear
  
• You split your pants while wearing no underwear at all
  
• Your head is on backwards
  

So Many Words

Sydney is becoming more adept at communicating. While her caveman-style grunts and screeches have sufficed up to this point, we're starting to put our collective feet down about her moaning and groaning and forcing her to try to verbalize or use her sign language. It is working well as she is nearly in a constant state of needing and/or wanting something, so she's developing quite a vocabulary for a (parrot-like) 13-month old.

WORDS/EXCLAMATIONS

• This
  
• Jack
  
• Dog
  
• Mama
  
• Dada
  
• DON'T TOUCH (I suspect she thinks that the electrical outlets are called "don't touch." That's the only time she says it: while excitedly groping them.)
  
• Nononono
  
• Uh Oh
  
• Whassat?
  
• Woof
  
• More
  
• Bye-bye
  

SIGNS (usually accompanied by screeching)

• Eat
  
• More
  
• Drink
  
• Please
  
• Done
  
• Down
  
• Kiss
  

Overheard

Jack, wearing an outfit consisting of entirely navy blue: I am a, wait, am I? Yes, I am a black man!

---------------

Jack, watching the baby eat: She looks like a snake swallowing a mouse!

Celebrities/Characters the Baby Resembles

• Chuck Liddel
  
• Woody Harrelson
  
• "Vincini"
  
• "Dr. No"
  
• Winston Churchill

Halloweenie

This year, in anticipation of Halloween, we purchased an "Easy Pumpkin Carving Kit" which should get more than just quotations to indicate my sarcasm. This kit included a few flimsy "saws" and a miniscule "drill" that, instead of allowing me to "carve the pumpkin of my dreams!" only made me growl and reach for my usual stabbing weapons.

We persevered as always, and have one "carved" pumpkin. While it is not the pumpkin of MY dreams, it is apparently the pumpkin of Jack's (bad dreams).

Instead of using the patterns that came with the kit, he insisted on drawing up his own carving sketch that I was instructed to follow TO THE LETTER. We even went through transferring the sketch to the pumpkin with a pencil before I was given the green light to start cutting. (Jack will make a great plastic surgeon.) The drawing literally came to life, and by the time I got to the jagged maw of a mouth, Jack was standing behind me, watching over my shoulder and visibly shuddering.

"Thaaaaat's it!" he whispered in a super creepy voice, RIGHT IN MY EAR.

I squealed, then he squealed, then we both needed reassuring hugs.

Once we procured a candle, he eagerly hustled me and the scary pumpkin right out of the house and onto the front steps--where it will hopefully terrify any would-be intruders interested in stealing 2nd generation baby toys and/or whippets.

Noticably more relaxed after the pumpkin was outside, he realized that it was time for his nightly chore of feeding the dogs. As he poured food into their dishes he noticed a legitimate intruder of the 8-legged variety.

"Aaaahh! ASPIDERISINTHEHOUSE!" he screamed.

"Get it!" I urged.

"How!?" he squealed.

"Kill it with your lips!" Dan piped in from the other room.

With a disgusted look, he finished pouring and went to grab a tissue. "I have to do everything around here" he muttered. I wonder where he hears that?

Overheard

Jack, sneaking through the kitchen during dinner: Jack's not in his seee-eat!

Sydney, spying ANYTHING AT ALL: Whassat?

Sydney, dangling her sippy cup over the side of her highchair: Don't!

Sydney, closing ANY door: Shut!

Jack, to Dinah: Your breath smells like dog doo.
Me: Put two and two together son.

The Boy Who Cried Throwup

A few weeks ago Jack got sick in the middle of the night. He came into my room to tell me that he was feeling funny, and I stood with him next to the toilet for awhile. Since nothing was happening, and he was yawning, I put him back to bed with a "barf bucket" and passed out. A few minutes later I hear him crying, so I go into his room to find him standing in a small lake of vomit. GROSS.

(I'll skip the cleaning up part of the story--it was unfathomably disgusting.)

He was fascinated by the event, and proceeded to talk about it for the next few days with avid interest (my interest, on the other hand, had beyond waned). He was even announcing to people that he "threwed up several days ago." Not cool at the grocery store, Jack.

Since The Event, he has taken to announcing non-chalantly, "I think I need to throw up" and then standing in the bathroom over the toilet for several minutes. Usually this happens after I have issued an order like, "Jack, get your shoes on, we're going to school" or "Jack, put those Legos away." So any inherent drama in the throwup threat is now dead for me, and I think at this point I have seen, smelled, heard, and witnessed so much barfing that someone could puke right on me and I would not flinch. (Universe: that is not an invitation.)